


May Day

by wanderingstoryteller



Series: No one ever said this life would be simple [22]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aliens (well future humans) asked them very nicely to do it, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics briefly mentioned, Exhibitionism, F/F, Fertility Festival, Orgy, Public Sex, Ritual Sex, Sex on an altar, Strap-Ons, Time Babies Mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 06:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17955521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingstoryteller/pseuds/wanderingstoryteller
Summary: Team TARDIS stumble upon a fertility festival on a future human colony. The local priestesses realize who the Doctor is and ask her and Yaz to lead that years fertility right. Yaz convinces the Doctor they should go for it. It turns out to be about what you'd expect, complete with body paint, flower crowns, an altar, and possibly a ceremonial dildo.(It makes a little bit of sense if you haven't read the rest of the series)





	May Day

**Author's Note:**

> This may actually be one of the sillier fics I have ever written. I hope it is as funny to read as it was to write.

 

The had not expected to walk out into a fertility festival worthy of Manamara Matsuri, although instead of just giant penises there were also plenty of interesting representations of female anatomy as well, ranging form a rather impressive vulva statue being carried around to great aplomb and what appeared to be boob shaped little cakes.

Everything was a fascinating cultural mix of traditional Japanese clothes, french style food, and British Isle folk festival symbols. Yaz could have sworn she saw a, Mari Lwyd dance past, that or whatever the local version of a horse skull on a stick with bells and a white sackcloth was. Everyone, literally everyone at the festival, from the smallest child to the oldest adult, wore some sort of flowers or other foliage in their hair.

Oddly enough it was Graham who found his voice first, “So I’m guessing this isn’t the DC Cherry Blossom festival, unless it is a lot wilder than the travel channel lets on.”

Yaz burst into laughter and Ryan did the same after looking terribly embarrassed for a moment.

The Doctor buzzed her sonic. “No, definitely not earth, probably some moon of a larger gas giant. These folks are a human variant pretty close to you own, much higher level of tech, although they don’t seem to use it for much. If I were to guess I’d say that this is Primavera Segundus, second moon of Fons.”

”Ah, well I’m going to get one of those little boob cakes,” announced Yaz and set off.

Ryan had never looked more overwhelmed in his life as when he followed the Doctor and his grandfather into the brightly colored festival. Yaz got her cake. She’d intended to eat it then but the stall owner wrapped it up in a beautiful golden box with a pretty red ribbon. Yaz wasn’t entirely certain but something in the old woman’s amused expression and knowing glances towards the Doctor, rather suggested that the small cakes were traditionally given as lovers gifts.

As soon as YAz had her brightly wrapped package in hand. Ryan noticed a ramen stall. It seemed like most he’d seen across the galaxies, it’s hard to beat the basic ramen cart model, if anything, it had had a revival after humanity took to the stars.They all settled in and ordered, although there was really only one option.

The ramen was surprisingly good. The stall keeper, an elderly man, beamed and made light conversation with them and the other customers. He teased a young man and women who had just sat down, arms around each other’s waists in the way of courting couples. The young woman had a beautiful and fairly intricate crown of white and pink flowers in her hair, the man an ivy crown with a set of ornamental clay stag horns.

“Eat up both of you. Best of luck in the ritual.”

The young woman gigged. “Oh we don’t need luck.”

The young man was failing to keep a straight face, "especially with all the practice we’ve had.”

"Plenty of practice,” agreed the young woman.

“Then you’ll need your strength, “ chuckled the old man. “The broth especially should help, it’s got chicken hearts, livers, and testicles very good for virility and fertility.”

Ryan looked deeply horrified, Graham vaguely surprised, Yaz felt the laughter she’d barely been able to fight down since they started walking through the festival bubble up again. The Doctor just kept eating.

Ryan made a face at her, “Doc…”

She blinked at him as she finished slurping, “I thought you liked chicken. It’s what you always make when you do dinner.”

“Not the err....”

Yaz perked up like she saw the inevitable joke coming.  

Graham winced in anticipation.

The Doctor looked mildly confused.

Ryan clearly tried to think of a better phrasing and gave up, “nuggets.”

Graham raised his eyes heavenward and Yaz near doubled over she was laughing so hard. It made the Doctor deeply glad to see Yaz so happy.  

Graham just shrugged and went back to eating. “It’s not that weird, my mom used to make me eat chicken livers when I was a boy. This is much better.”

Yaz returned to her own food with a half smile.

They’d all been nearly done anyway. They wandered on. There was a really long line for a red tent. Those waiting in line told them that the priestesses from the local temple read fortunes for free during the festival.

Yaz promptly got in line. The Doctor wasn’t so enthusiastic. “Yaz, darling, are you sure you want to waste an hour of such a beautiful day just standing about?”

“Yup, you can go do something else for a bit if you want.”

“No.” The Doctor fidgeted like a child, poking at a loose stone with the tip of her boot. “I’m just not a fan of prophecies. There are never any good ones and the bad ones are always worse when you see them coming.”

“I’m sure it is just a bit of palm reading and I’m curious now.”

The Doctor gave her a thin lipped smile. She returned to slightly better cheer when Yaz bought her a very naughty shaped ice cream treat off a passing cart.

While they were waiting in line, Graham and Ryan ended up getting roped into a giant tug of war involving everyone who could be found tugging on the two sides of a giant rope. Their side lost and both men ended up falling on their butts. Apparently it was a tradition for the winning team to buy drinks for the losing one. They soon found themselves sipping what tasted like sweet sake out of beer glasses and toasting some lunar goddess they had never heard of.

Yaz and the Doctor were finally let into the large red tent. It was set up with one priestess directing worshipers to five different folding tables where red clad priestesses of varying age were dispensing advice.

The one that got them was a round faced matronly sort with blond hair so curly it was escaping her neat braid.

“How can I help you dearies? Roll the runes to see if a wedding is auspicious, read you futures in a palm, advise on a fertility issue.” For some inexplicable reason, she like most of the people at the festival had a vaguely Cornish accent.

“Definitely no problem with fertility,” mumbled the Doctor half to herself and half to Yaz.

Yaz sat down in her plastic chair and nudged the Doctor until she sat in hers. She put her hand on the table, suddenly a bit uncertain what to do next.

“Give me your hand, let’s see what we can see,” said the priestess.

Yaz had never had a palm reading start with the reader taking her pulse. That was just a bit odd. The woman then proceed to poke at her palm with two fingers. To Yaz’s surprise, she saw that the priestess's fingers glow a soft blue.

“You are so very, very in love.”

“Not hard to see that,” said Yaz with a soft smile.

The woman shrugged and then also smiled slightly as if something had just amused her.

“And many years from being a mother I think, but I’m sensing a high likelihood of twins. Does that run in your family?”

Yaz was flabbergasted. The priestess gave her hand a solid pat, “Coconut oil does wonders for stretch marks. Start in the first trimester when you fall pregnant.”

She turned her attention the Doctor, “Alright, dearie let’s see about you.

The Doctor frowned but offered her hand. The woman was very perplexed for a moment and then come to a conclusion, “Two pulses, You’ve two hearts, both given to your lovely companion I’ll guess.”

The Doctor blushed a little.

The priestess pressed her fingers against the Doctor’s palm and her clear brown eyes began to suddenly glow a faint blue.

“Savior of worlds, breaker of chains, mother of stars, seven fine daughters you will you have to your name. Together they will defend all that is, has or ever will be.”

Then she was frantically shaking her head. “What...did I just say something?”

A younger priestess at a nearby table noticed and hurried over. Worriedly she pressed the back of her hand to the other priestess’s forehead. “Sister Juniper, did you have another vision?”

The woman blinked worriedly. “I...I need to lie down.”

Yaz and the Doctor made quick apologies and fled.

“That was a real prophecy,” said Yaz as soon as they slowed back to a walk.

“Yea, they’re really not as exciting when you're a Time Traveler and have seen things in person. She didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know.”

“She knew about our twins and the rest of the Pleiades.”

The Doctor shrugged, “That’s easy enough, she was actually a low level psychic, although I might have overloaded her a bit.” She didn’t seem to want dwell. “Come on, I hear music.” The sun was just beginning to dip low on the horizon.

They came upon a meadow at the edge of the festival, where there was of course a maypole. The maypole dancing must have happened earlier in the day as the the wooden pole was wrapped in brightly colored ribbons. Close by the meadow there was a small English style fiddle and accordion band playing and what appeared to be some very complex dance contest in the center of a circle drawn with scattered evergreen boughs. As far as Yaz could tell it was some combination of Contra dancing, swing dancing, and a kind of circle dancing that reminded her of when she’d seen the Hora danced at a Jewish friend's wedding.

Two priestess were observing the dance. After each song they would tap several couples and wave them out of the circle.

The Doctor tugged a hesitant Yasmine into the circle. She’d never seen anything vaguely fun in her life that she didn’t instantly want to become part of. It quickly began apparent that neither Yaz nor the Doctor could really dance. However their attempts were clearly so amusing that the judges felt no need to eliminate them even after two turns of the reel. At least that was what the doctor first guessed, then she noticed that a third priestess had hurried over and was rapidly saying something to the other two while motioning at Yaz and the Doctor.

The Doctor got a bad feeling, she’d have left the dance if she thought they could without attracting attention. As more and more couples were eliminated, it became even more glaring noticeable how badly Yaz and the Doctor were stumbling through the twists and turns. When at last none but Yaz and the Doctor were left, a low murmur of confusion went up through the small crowd that had gathered. Anyone watching knew that they shouldn’t have been the ones to win.

The Doctor and Yaz stopped dancing as a grey haired priestess with more silver jewelry than the other ones, suggesting that she was of higher rank, approached them.

She bowed very deeply to the Doctor as did the two priestess's who flanked her. One held up a flower crown and the other an ivy one with real stag antlers.

“Doctor, will you do us the honor of performing this years fertility right for the temple of our goddess.”

The Doctor tilted her head slightly, “You know my name?”

“You are written of in our holy book, the great traveling Doctor, the golden hair man with celery on his coat who saved our first great prophetess from the storm of fire. It has long been a subject of debate whether you would ever return. Now you have with a new face.”

“I’m honored, but I’m not really one for rituals.”

“Please we beg you, the rite of Demeter is one of our most sacred rites. If you were to perform it for us, it would give our people hope in such a dark time. Our numbers have barely begun to recover after the first great blue fever epidemic and there’s just been another small one this year.”

The Doctor was at first surprised to hear of a blue fever outbreak outside of Tyco, especially during a slightly earlier time period, then again she’d done enough research to learn that it hadn’t started there. It first appeared not long after humans left earth and was actually most dangerous to more standard human variants.

The Doctor knelt slightly so she could speak softly enough for only the priestess to hear her, “You and I both know that no ritual that I can perform will heal those the fever made infertile.” She was close enough to sense that the head priestess was not a psychic or anything else, just human and observant. From the way she returned the Doctor’s gaze, she was clearly not a woman suffering from any sort of delusions or hero worship.

“There is a reason I said hope,” she whispered back. “I’ve read you file Doctor. You are just an alien called a Time Lord. The stories you inspire though...Please, I will beg if I must. My people need this.”

“Don’t, um do that. Listen, I’m not agreeing to anything but why don’t you tell us what this ritual involves, then Yaz and I can figure out if we can help you.”

“As you will,” The priestess stood up. She led them from the field to a nearby red tent. Rather than particularly mystical it appeared to be the center of operations for coordinating the festival. There were schedules, maps and other administrative papers scattered everywhere. With a wave of her hand, the priestess cleared the tent and offered the Doctor and Yaz chairs. She crossed her hands in her lap and then she began to explain her religion's great fertility right in much the same way a naturalist might describe the mating habits of blue herons.

Yaz and the Doctor were somewhat stunned by the time she finished. The Doctor tried to express herself with helpful hand gestures.

“So were supposed to make love on an altar in the middle of a field.”

“Yes.”

“Covered in red painted symbols.”

“Correct.”

“With a dildo made of Frilo bone.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll provide that.”

“While pretty much every couple, especially those trying to conceive this year, also have sex in the field.”

“Yes, it’s all very dignified.”

“To music.”

“Pipes and drum mostly. Don’t worry, we’ve got a really good drummer this year, even if last years drummer was admittedly terrible.”

They all sat staring at each other for a minute until the Doctor let out a breath. “And if we say no?”

“Then we’ll go find one of the other couples from the dance and ask them. I know I am asking a lot of you as offworlders,” said the priestess.

“It was very sweet of you to ask us to be part of your lovely spring ritual and all, but I’m afraid we have to decline. Come one Yaz, we had best be going.”

Yaz stood automatically but did not follow instantly as the Doctor turned to go. The Doctor noticed and gave Yaz a questioning look. Yaz shrugged.

She drew Yaz to her so she could speak softly. “Unless, you _want_ to stay and have sex under the stars as part of a society wide fertility ritual.”

Yaz chewed her lip, “not if you don’t want to..”

The Doctor studied her carefully, “I haven’t said I don’t. I guess I sort of assumed you wouldn’t. If you’re interested...”

Yaz’s entire face grew so hot she had to cover it, “you're serious.”

“I’ve done a lot of interesting things in my life. It’s never been my biggest kink but I’ve always enjoyed a nice bit of exhibitionism, at least in some of my regenerations. I think I do in this one. Ancient Rome was always great for it, also a certain park in Amsterdam.” She kissed Yaz’s cheek and then drew back a bit. “Before we get ahead of ourselves though, are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t want you to do anything that will bring back trauma from the arena or harem.”

Yaz caught her hand and interlaced their fingers, “being seen was never what troubled me, it was the malice behind the eyes on me, and my own lack of choice in being seen.This sounds different. I think I need something like this, something I can control. Before the arena, I kind of sort of used to have fantasies about this kind of thing. This seems like a way to reclaim that part of myself.”

“You never do anything by halves do you my brilliant darling,” murmured the Doctor. “If you want to do this, I will be delighted to do it with you.” She turned back to the priestess, who had been studiously not listening. “We’re in as long as everything is as you described it.”

Then the Doctor’s cell phone rang, blasting,”The White Cliffs of Dover.” She’d recently realized that she could program a specific song in for each number and had gone a bit wild with it. Shiva’s song was set on “Touch The Sky” from _Brave_ , Yaz’s was “Love of My Life” by Queen, and for some reason Ryan’s was “Fight Song” by Rachel Platten.

The Doctor answered her phone and Graham’s mildly slurred voice drifted over the line, along with the sound of raucous off key singing in the background. “Hey Doc, I’m taking Ryan back to the TARDIS. He drank too much of some kind of rice wine.”

“Is he alright?”

“Two sheets to the wind and trying to teach the locals how to sing “We Will Rock You.”

“Best get him home then.”

“You and Yaz heading back any time soon?”

“We got talked into helping with a festival ritual, we might be back a bit late.”

“Is that code for got kidnapped again?” Graham suddenly sounded stone sober. Yaz and the Doctor had been captured enough times that it was a relevant question.

“The local priestesses asked us nicely and we agreed. We don’t need a rescue.”

“Alright, have fun then.”

 

The priestess had no been joking about the red paint. Yaz began to rethink her decision when she soon found herself stuck lying on a mat on the floor of the tent, completely starkers, as a chatty young priestess drew designs on her with a brush. The Doctor seemed to find nothing odd at all about the entire business.

By the time the intricate swirls covered her breasts and everything else she knew everything about the young priestess, her extended family, and her second cousin’s recent wedding. It was decidedly one of the least erotic experiences of her life. At least someone brought her a mug of some sweet rice alcohol. It was strong enough she didn’t finish it.

An older priestess braided her hair up into a very intricate coronet of braids and then added a wreath of white and pink flowers for good measure. There were also a lot of bracelets and necklaces of red clay beads and flower garlands.

When it was all done Yaz half wished she could see her herself in a mirror and was half relieved that she couldn’t. She rather suspected she looked like an odd combination of a blood sacrifice and a goddess of spring.

The Doctor was equally done up.

“So why do you get the stag horns?” she asked the Doctor.

“Symbolic of my virility.” She totally wiggled her golden eyebrows as she said it.

Had she not been afraid of messing up their paint, Yaz would have tickled her. “You are utterly ridiculous my darling.”

“You love it.”

“A bit, yea.”

Their evening became even more awkward when a priestess brought the Frilo bone dildo, and explained a leather apparatus to the Doctor as if she’d never seen a strap-on before. The Doctor listened good humoredly. Yaz found herself wondering what the priestesses would think if they saw the Doctor in rut, probably decide she was their goddess’s avatar or something.  

The sound of music began to drift into the darkening tent. The sun had fully set. The head priestess returned to the tent. “It’s time.”

“Do I get a robe?” asked Yaz, suddenly shy.

The priestess looked confused. “I did not realize you would require one.”

“It’s fine, never mind.” She was about to have sex in front of a bunch of strangers, might as well get over her modesty at the start.

The priestess led them out of the tent and back to the field. It was rather crowded now. Getting enough space to properly lay down a blanket was clearly a highly competitive matter. The were couples, everywhere, most still dressed, although already busy making out as often as not.

Yaz instantly felt very, very awkward when she realized that she and the Doctor were the only ones naked. She supposed they were the ones expected to kick off the festivities. The altar looked to be a quickly assembled small wooden platform with some blankets and lots of flowers thrown on it.

The music grew louder and louder as they walked. In spite of the head priestess’s insistence that the temple had found a better drummer, the current one also seemed rather questionable. How bad had last year's drummer been?

When they reached the altar, Yaz was relieved to see that there was a wooden block to help her step up. She didn’t feel like doing a bunch of scrambling while she was sans clothes.

She and the Doctor stood with their hands linked while the head priestess gave a brief blessing. It was all rather symbolic but the general idea of it was pretty clear; fertility, life, renewal. She didn’t actually say who the Doctor was, perhaps she was relying on rumors to handle that.

When she was done, a cheer went up. She motioned Yaz and the Doctor towards the altar before stepping back. The drumming started up again as did the pipe. The pipe player really wasn’t that good either.

The Doctor offered Yaz a hand to help her climb up onto the altar and then followed her up. It wasn’t that big, about the side of a double bed. Yaz had a sudden mental image of accidentally tumbling off it into the grass in the midst of things.

They stretched out beside each other, both suddenly hesitant. There were just so many, many eyes on them. For an instant, Yaz was back in the arena, terrified and in pain, forced to fight and fuck for a crowds amusement.

The Doctor cupped her face. “Stay with me darling. Breath.”

Yaz breathed.

“Open your eyes my love, see where we are. You are safe. This is a good place.”

Yaz opened her eyes. When she looked around the torch lit clearing, she saw interest, desire, and even wonder on the watching faces but not cruelty. More than a few couples had apparently decided that they were allowed to just go ahead and start now that a couple was on the altar.

“Yes, it is. This was my choice,”

Yaz leaned forward to kiss the Doctor, at first hesitantly and then deeply. She could spend the rest of her life kissing this woman and never grow tired of it. She felt the frantic flutter of her heartbeat ease from that of fear to honest desire.

The Doctor broke the kiss to begin a trail of the same down Yaz’s body. Yaz hoped that the paint wasn’t toxic to ingest or anything, at least not for Time Ladies.

She parted her legs for her lover and the Doctor dipped her head down. Had Yaz not been so utterly turned on, the antlers the Doctor was wearing would have made the entire thing ridiculous. They still kind of did, but the whole thing was really. Yaz was having too much fun to care.

The Doctor was so terribly good at oral sex but also the absolute worst of teases. She thoroughly nipped and nuzzled at Yaz’s inner thigh before she even came to her center. She pressed just the tip of her tongue up one side of Yaz’s inner labia and then down the other, lapped at her entrance and generally neglected her clit until Yaz was more then ready to grab the damn antlers and guide her.

As if sensing the lover’s frustration, the Doctor moved up and began to properly move her tongue against her lovers clit and suck on it hard enough to leave Yaz utterly breathless. She brought Yaz to the edge quickly enough.

“Fingers, please fingers,”

Yaz wasn’t even sure the Doctor could hear her over the music and not inconsiderable ruckus of the other couples. She must have because she pressed two and then three fingers into her. After a few pumps of her lover's hand, Yaz arched and came, not caring what sounds she made. Hell everyone else present was doing the same.

The Doctor saw her through her tremors and then crawled back up over her. She kissed her with her essence still on her lips. Yaz moaned against her lovers mouth. She needed her so desperately.

When she looked up she saw the Doctor’s smile, bright as a thousand suns. Something in the way the skin at the Doctor’s eyes creased when she smiled made Yaz’s heart ache. Beyond her, somewhat dimmed by the fires, burned countless distant stars.

Yaz leaned up enough to nip at her ear and whisper, “Go onto your back love, I want to ride you.”

The Doctor obeyed. Yaz scrambled onto her, rose up a bit, and then sank down on the ridiculously symbolic, carved bone dildo. It really wasn’t any sillier than the rainbow silicone one the Doctor loved to use. It certainly felt just as good to Yaz as it filled her.  

Yaz began to gently rise up and fall, rolling her hips. The Doctor was looking up at Yaz as if all the life and beauty in the universe lay in her. the angle was a bit awkward but the Doctor managed to get one hand on a breast and two fingers in a rubbing motion on Yaz’s clit.

All around them, the air was filled with the sound of rapid music and the not particularly dignified sounds of actual love making. When Yaz glanced around she noticed that nearly everyone present had been distracted by thing other than her and the Doctor.

As she moved she felt old fears and hurts falling away from her. This was her choice. No one was forcing her, no one would hurt her or her mate if they stopped. There was no empress watching with cold hungry eyes, biding her time before she tried to rape her and hurt the Doctor. There was no crowd baying for blood and pain. There was only the music, and the warm night air, and lovers caught up in moments of intense joy and intimacy.

If a body could burn with pleasure, Yaz’s did then. She tried to let the moment last as long as she could, dragging it out, rising and falling. She’d never been that good at holding back orgasms and it caught her suddenly, her back arching with the intensity of it. She kept moving through it and into another that left her utterly breathless. She slumped onto the Doctor, too exhausted to move.

The Doctor let her lie on her, running her fingers up and down Yaz’s warm back. “Truly you are incredible my beautiful Yaz.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

They rested for a bit, although Yaz could tell it was costing the Doctor a bit of will to remain still.

“Will it mess up the ritual if you take off the strap-on and I just fuck you ?”

“No idea, no one seems to be paying attention anymore anyway.”

Yaz moved just enough to ease the toy from her own body and the she and the Doctor managed to figure out the little leather straps well enough to free the Doctor of it. “Don’t lose it,” said the Doctor. “They said we could keep it.”

Yas had no idea how she felt about that but she didn’t drop it off the altar or anything. She kissed the Doctor and just as quickly pressed her fingers into her aching body. When she brushed her thumb against the Time Lady's clit she made a very desperate sound.

“Close aren’t you,” chuckled Yaz.

“Please darling, if you tease me, I think I’ll die or at least be terribly cross.”

Yas began to fuck her properly, fingers quick and clever inside her cunt, thumb firm and certain against her clit.

“Yaz, Yaz, oh Yaz!”

The Doctor came hard, clenching on Yaz’s fingers.

“Again?”

“No, too much. Let me hold you.”

Yaz was happy to do that.

When they had the energy to glance around again, the festivities did seem to be winding down.

“So do we need to do anything else, or are we like good to go?” Yaz contemplated.

“We’ll need to get our clothes from the tent first.”

Yaz rolled off the Doctor and swiped a red blanket to wrap around herself before she hopped down. The Doctor followed, taking a blanket for herself and grabbing the dildo, apparently she did intend to take it with them. They left their wreaths on the altar. They wouldn’t have kept anyway.

Navigating their way back across the field, especially now that the torches had begun to burn a bit lower, proved challenging. A lot of people had surrendered to the inevitable urge to snuggle or sleep once their more strenuous activities were completed, although some, mostly younger couples, seemed to still be at it. By some miracle, they managed to pick their way out of the meadow without stepping on anyone.

The red admin tent was mostly deserted, save for one very annoyed looking priestess who was talking on a what looked like a cellphone.

“I don’t care if your entire staff is at the festival, a delivery van broke down in the main parking lot and its blocking everything. We’ve got to get a tow truck or no one will be able to get home...Yes I know most people sleep it off at the festival...Well people will need to leave in the morning you know.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Yaz and the Doctor. Muting her phone she asked.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes.”

“You sure you can’t stay for the sunrise ceremony. It’s very nice and there will be bagels and coffee afterwards.”

“Afraid so, places to go, people to save, you know how it is.” One thing the Doctor had learned a long time ago was to never linger, especially anywhere she was famous. One reason she loved earth was that humans were so good at forgetting who she was.

“Your clothes are piled up on the table. Safe travels and may the goddess bless you.” The priestess unmuted her phone and then made a face. “No, noon is not soon enough….yes, I understand that holiday rates apply.”

Yaz and the Doctor dressed quickly. Although the paint was starting to flake, it had dried at least. They left the poor priestess to her ongoing argument with the tow truck company and slipped out into the night

One very thorough shower later, they were curled up in their own bed, safe within the humming walls of the TARDIS.

“Did you get what you needed?” asked the Doctor kissing the back of Yaz’s head.

“Yes, very much so. Thank you you for doing it with me.”

“Always my darling.”

“So did you really do something like that before?”

“Multiple times, I’ll tell you sometime when you're not exhausted.”

“I’d like that.”

 


End file.
